The Road to Recovery
by eve997
Summary: Prompt by Naku Tsushiko. AU where the Doctor keeps the Master after 'Last of the Time Lords.' The Master becomes ill, and only the Doctor can save him. But the Master's pride pushes the Doctor further and further away, and the road to recovery becomes increasingly difficult. Eventual slash.
1. Chapter 1

The Doctor stood at the console, silently watching the Master from behind the center column. He was sitting on the pilot's chair, eyes closed and face twisted in a mixture of pain and concentration. The Doctor sighed, exhaling through his nostrils.

Ever since the other Time Lord had joined him on the TARDIS, the Doctor had been trying to find some way to compromise with the Master. He was still upset at having been taken prisoner after their time on the Valiant, and after nearly three months together, the Doctor still wasn't able to get through to him. The only thing he knew for sure was that the drums inside his head were getting worse. Several times, he had walked in on the Master crumpled on the floor, curled up in a ball and clutching his head tightly, barely even seeming to notice the Doctor's presence. He had learned to stay away when this happened, as the Master was extremely unstable and tended to last out. He had the concussion to prove it, actually, when he had been pushed back against a bookshelf when he tried to help once.

The Doctor looked at him, racking his brain and trying to figure out some way to fix what was wrong. Suddenly, the Master looked up, sharp, cold eyes boring into him. The Doctor looked away, staring down at the floor, ashamed for his failure. He was the _Doctor_ – he was supposed to make people better, not watch them suffer from afar. He sighed again, ghosting his hand gently along the console.

"Quit moping," said a voice, and he looked up to see the Master sitting forward on the chair, elbows resting on his knees, looking at the floor. His eyes flicked up to the Doctor, expression unreadable.

"I'm not moping," he began defensively, taken aback.

"Yes you are," interrupted the Master before the Doctor could say more. "I can hear you thinking." He tapped the side of his head. "It's annoying."

"Sorry," the Doctor mumbled, walking around the console to tuck a stray wire into place. The Master's dark eyes followed his as he moved, his face impassable. The Doctor ignored it, but the way the Master watched him was beginning to make him uneasy. "Let's go somewhere," he suggested suddenly, wanting to distract himself for a while. The Master snorted.

"What, and be dragged around like a pet, not letting me out of your sight? No thank you." He sat back and crossed his arms, looking away.

"Oh, come on," whined the Doctor, bouncing slightly on his toes, his hands itching to fly across the controls. "Let's just go to a café, get a cup of tea and biscuits. It'll be fun." He looked at the Master hopefully. When he didn't respond immediately, the Doctor whined again. "Masterr.."

"Fine!" he shouted, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "As long as it'll make you shut up for a few minutes, fine." The Doctor grinned happily, and began setting coordinates to a planet in the future of their respected Earth timelines, since he didn't want anyone to recognize the Master as prime minister. The TARDIS shook violently as he piloted it to a planet that had been claimed by Great Britain.

After a profusion of shaking and groaning from the TARDIS, accompanied of course by a multitude of flying sparks, the Doctor was able to land them safely. He looked at the monitor, glad to find that they'd arrived at the right place.

"The New British Empire," he announced, bouncing excitedly. "In the year 3062. Wonderful place." The Master rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Doctor," he said irritably. "I know where we are. I'm not one of your stupid human companions." He pushed himself up off the seat, crossing suit-clad arms over his chest.

The Doctor ignored the comment, briefly wondering how the Master had managed to remain sitting during the shaky landing. He shook his head, quickly dismissing the thought as he walked over to the doors. Pushing them open dramatically, he stepped out into the fresh air with a grin. The Master followed, standing beside the Doctor and looking around distastefully.

"Come on," he muttered, glaring up at the light blue sky. "Let's get this over with." The Doctor smiled and held out his hand to the Master, wiggling his fingers playfully. The other Time Lord slapped it away, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and beginning to walk forward, making his way out of the narrow alleyway the TARDIS had materialized in. The Doctor's face fell slightly, but he quickly replaced it with his normal happy expression.

They stepped into a bright plaza, people walking by peacefully and not seeming to notice the two of them emerging from between two tall buildings. They were surrounded by little shops, each promoting something different, with a large, intricate fountain present in the middle of everything. It was breathtaking, really. This part of the planet was reserved for pedestrians; far from the large, advanced cities that occupied most other areas.

The Doctor began walking forward, eyeing the assortment of shops and buildings until he found a small café. The Master trailed slowly behind as they arrived at the front door. The Doctor pulled it open, holding it while the Master walked through, still as expressionless as ever. He went in after, strolling up to the counter and ordering a cup of English breakfast tea while the Master got coffee. The Doctor also ordered an assortment of pastries and biscuits on the side, and the two made their way back out and found a table.

The Doctor sipped at his tea, letting a soft breeze ruffle through his hair as they sat outside. The Master remained unmoving, staring off and unconsciously picking at a muffin, scattering crumbs all over the small table. The Doctor watched him skeptically as he took a bite out of a biscuit smothered in strawberry jam. He chewed thoughtfully, trying to figure out why the Master was acting so strangely.

Ever since the paradox had been broken and time reversed, the Master just hadn't been himself. He was always plotting some way to wreak havoc on society in any way he could, or even just be generally difficult. But he hadn't even tried to escape yet. There was no running and screaming from the locals; nothing on fire. It was just a normal, peaceful day. All the Master did was sit at the table. All he ever did was sit now, cooped up in the dark, isolated from the universe. Sometimes the Doctor would run a scan in the TARDIS, finding the Master wandering through the ship. He wasn't doing any damage or tampering with anything, as far as the Doctor could tell; just walking up and down the corridors, sometimes for hours on end. The Master was distancing himself – it almost seemed as if he were giving up. But how was that possible? The Master never just gave up – that wasn't his style at all. He knew that the other Time Lord would rather die than admit defeat – that had been clear enough on the Valiant. At least the Doctor had been lucky enough to pull the gun out of Lucy's hands before the Master could goad her on any further to shoot him.

He had a fleeting feeling that the other Time Lord was up to something sinister, just waiting for him to make a mistake. But somehow, the Doctor couldn't quite believe that. The way he was acting just seemed so genuine, and he didn't know what to make of it.

It took the Doctor a moment to notice the Master looking at him expectantly, and he realized that he'd been staring at the other Time Lord while he became lost in his thoughts.

"What?" he asked, jumping slightly. The Master sighed, shaking his head.

"Nothing," he murmured, looking away again. The Doctor wondered what he'd missed, and most importantly, why the Master was acting so _different_.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" The Master's voice was quiet and distant, and he still refused to look at the Doctor. His eyes remained fixed on something very far away, and the Doctor began to really worry. Something was definitely wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor flew backwards, slamming into one of the coral columns that lined the console room. His head cracked against the golden structure, throbbing painfully.

"You think you can keep me?" the Master screamed, grabbing the Doctor's collar and pulling him up harshly. "I am the Master," he hissed, eyes flashing manically. "I surrender to no one – _especially _not to _you_." The Doctor felt strong, determined hands close around his throat and press tightly against his windpipe, crushing it.

"Master," he managed to choke out. "P-please." His hands scrabbled desperately at the ones at his throat, his eyes filled with panic. The Doctor's respiratory bypass system was beginning to fail, and the Master ginned, eyes ablaze with insanity.

"Beg me, Doctor," he hissed. "Beg for your life." His hands tightened slightly, causing the Doctor's mouth to fall open as he gasped for breath.

"Ple..ease," he choked. "Mas..ter. Let me… I want… to help y..you." The Master scoffed, but willingly released the Doctor. He watched as the other Time Lord fell to the floor, swallowing huge gulps of air.

"Help me?" the Master sneered. "You can't help me. No one can, so don't waste your breath." He spat the last sentence, swirling around angrily and stalking out of the console room, slamming the door behind him. Slowly, the Doctor picked himself up off the metal-grated floor, massaging his throat tenderly. He stared at the door sadly, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh.

Only a day had passed since their outing together, and the Master had been acting just as strange as ever. When the other Time Lord had finally taken the liberty of reappearing in the console room after nearly twenty-five hours of solitude, the Doctor was still worried about him. Trying to be nonchalant, he had suggested running some tests on the Master, assuring that it was merely standard procedure, and that he needed to make sure he was stabilizing with the TARDIS environment. The Master, of course, had undoubtedly refused, waving off the suggestion and turning to leave once again; to disappear into the confines of the TARDIS. But the Doctor didn't want him going off on his own for Rassilon-knew-how-long, so he had grabbed the Master's wrist, trying to get him to stay for a bit. Alarmed, the Master tore his arm free, pushing the Doctor away roughly. He tried to apply reason, but the Master had already snapped, pushing him again, this time against one of the columns and completely losing his control.

The Doctor ran a hand through his mussed hair, clearing his throat and wincing slightly at the soreness. He sat down heavily on the pilot's chair, leaning his head back and staring at nothing, trying to think.

There was something very wrong with the Master, and he knew that the main cause of his erratic mood swings was the drums. He knew they were getting worse, but he couldn't get close enough to the Master to find a way to help. He didn't even know what was causing the drumming, let alone how to fix it. But the Doctor could also tell that it wasn't just the drums anymore. There was something else affecting the Master, but he had no idea what it could be. He'd tried to run scans many times while the other Time Lord was wandering the TARDIS, but the Master could easily repel the weak electromagnetic waves, leaving the Doctor with nothing but a blank screen. He wanted so badly to help, but without a proper scan, he could accomplish next to nothing.

The Doctor briefly considered going after the Master, but he held back in fear of making matters worse. Instead, he closed his eyes, dropping his head into his hands with a frustrated sigh.

* * *

The Master ran back to his room, a cascade of different thoughts and voices simultaneously running through his head. The voices told him things; malicious things. They wanted him to go back, to hurt the Doctor to the point of regeneration and beyond. They told him of the glory he could achieve by stealing the TARDIS and enslaving another almighty civilization. He pictured the Doctor's face, scared, broken. The voices laughed manically, taunting and goading him on. One voice in particular, the loudest of them all, shouted at him over and over, the same word repeating in a four-beat pattern. It pounded against his skull, always in that damned brutal rhythm of four.

'_Kill, kill, kill, kill…'_

The Master ran faster.

Running; always running. He was as bad as the Doctor in that sense. But instead of running from the past, like his Time Lord counterpart, he ran from the present, from the future.

Funny thing about the present – it always morphed into something much more sinister. It was the one thing even the Time Lords couldn't control. Sure they could change the past and the future of events, but never the exact moment in which they occupied. Time was always moving, always changing. The future became the present, and the present the past. Time can be rewritten, but only to affect future events; never the event taking place in current time. And that was what the Master feared the most – that's what he was always running from. What he did affected everything around him, so instead of changing it, he ran from it.

Suddenly, the Master crumpled to the floor, sharp sensations of pain shooting through his body. It felt as if hundreds of knives were stabbing him, slicing through his flesh and cutting him open. He coughed violently, staring in horrid fascination at the spatter of blood lining the floor in front of him. The Master picked himself up, head throbbing as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. He staggered forward, one hand supporting himself against the wall as he continued to make his way through the TARDIS.

He didn't know how long he'd been walking through the twisting corridors before he finally found the door to his room. The TARDIS was still punishing him for what he did to her, making his walks much longer than necessary – not that he didn't deserve it, of course. The Master's legs were tired and sore as he stumbled into the dark room, falling onto a black-sheeted bed and curling into a ball.

* * *

_Darkness. Darkness everywhere. It surrounded him, engulfing him within the thick, shifting mass of nothingness. The Master screamed, choking on the darkness and gasping for breath. He scrabbled at it frantically, feeling his fingers stream through the thick air before replacing itself. His hearts beat madly in his chest, pounding in his ears and echoing all around him._

'_Badadadum, badadadum, badadadum, badadadum…'_

* * *

With a strangled cry, the Master opened his eyes, clutching something tightly in his hands. He realized the Doctor was standing over him, and he slowly uncurled his fingers from the brown pinstriped suit. His face burned slightly, and he wiped a hand over it, staring in astonishment at the glistening wetness covering his fingertips. Disoriented, the Master looked up, staring into the Doctor's chocolate brown eyes. They flicked back and forth over his face, glazed with worry and fear.

"What are you afraid of?" asked the Master, cocking his head to one side in a childlike manner. His voice was quiet, filled with curiosity and innocence, broken slightly from when he had been crying.

"You," the Doctor admitted after a moment's hesitation. His voice was barely a whisper, trembling ever so slightly. He swallowed. "I'm afraid of losing you; afraid of being the last one; afraid of being alone – again." The Master looked at him with big, round eyes, unmoving. He looked like a small child trying to understand the concept of death.

"Sometimes alone is better," he murmured after several moments of silence. Without seeming to realize he was doing it, the Master laid his head down, letting his eyes slide shut and drifting off into a peaceful sleep; which was quite rare for him. The Doctor looked at him sadly, gently brushing his fingers against the Master's face. He looked so peaceful, but the Doctor knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped again.

"No," he whispered, eyes glazed with tears threatening to fall. "Alone is never better." The Doctor stood slowly, rising to his feet and failing to notice the single tear that was making its way down his cheek. _'I'll fix you, Koschei,'_ he promised silently. _'Whatever it takes.'_

* * *

__**Sorry about the sad part at the end, but it needed to be done. The Doctor would do so much for the Master, and the Master doesn't even realize it.**

**Next chapter we find out what's really wrong with the Master. I have almost all of it written already, just need to transfer it onto my computer and post it.**

**Please review, it means the world to me :)**


	3. Chapter 3

The Master awoke, having no recollection of the previous day other than a thick fog of events, like a dream you can't quite remember. He sat up, feet hanging over the edge of the bed, and rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. He slid his eyes shut and dug into his memories, trying to recall what had happened in the previous hours before he slept, but could find nothing. After several minutes, the Master finally gave up. The only prominent thing in his mind was the Doctor's big, brown eyes filled with worry. He shook his head, ridding himself of the pitiful image. He was probably just remembering that look from one of the countless times the other Time Lord had used it before. Scratching the back of his head, the Master jumped out of bed and threw on a black shirt and a pair of dark jeans, then made his way out to the kitchen.

When he entered the large room, he found the Doctor already there, peacefully reading a book while he sipped a mug of tea in his hand. The Master walked past him, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning tiredly against the counter, drinking it black. He watched the Doctor in silence, trying to remember what had happened for him to see the other Time Lord with such concern in his eyes, especially ones directed at him. The image appeared in his head again, but he realized too late that he was actually seeing the Doctor looking at him the exact same way from across the room, brown eyes staring at him over the mug of tea.

"What?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes slightly. He didn't like that look; not in the least. The Doctor didn't move for a moment, then shook his head as if dismissing the Master's question. As he looked back down, the Master continued to watch him, and then the Doctor suddenly raised his head as if changing his mind.

"Are you okay?" he asked hesitantly, the same look of concern shadowing his features. The Master shrugged carelessly, mocking the Doctor with his eyes.

"Who cares?" he sneered, covering up his confusion the only way he knew how. The Doctor flinched, taken aback. He looked down again before placing his mug in the sink, gathering up his book and opening the door to leave. He stopped, standing halfway between two rooms.

"I do," he murmured, before finally walking through and letting the door fall shut. The Master frowned. Since when did the Doctor care about _him_? No one ever cared about him – the Doctor was probably just afraid of being the last one, or some sentimental crap like that. It didn't matter that it was him, just as long as there was another Time Lord around, he could care less who it actually was. The fact that the Master survived of all people was simply coincidence.

He downed the rest of his coffee, not caring that the hot water scalded his throat. He threw the mug into the sink, walking away from the sound of shattering porcelain. But before he could get very far, the Master suddenly stopped, a sharp, stabbing pain shooting through his body. He clutched a hand over his left heart, more pain ripping through his chest as he crumpled to the floor. His eyes widened, mouth opening in a silent scream as his heart felt as if it were being ripped out of his chest. He sensed his heart come to a shuddering stop before passing out, becoming engulfed in blackness.

* * *

_Dadadadum, dadadadum, dadadadum, dadadadum…_

He heard it over and over. The darkness was surrounding him, the intense drumbeat reverberating through his body. He knew this place – he'd been here many times before. The Master was trapped within his subconscious, the deep dark recesses of his damaged mind. He curled up in a ball, squeezing his palms tightly over his ears as the drums grew ever louder. His head was pounding – worse than ever before.

'_Go away!' he screamed. 'Leave me alone!'_ But they only got louder; faster. They beat against his skull and tore at his mind. He screamed again, kicking and clawing at the darkness, trying desperately to ward it off. Suddenly, thick, sharp claws curled over the Master, entrapping him. He was shaken violently, and he vaguely realized that he could hear a voice calling out to him. It was filled with concern; a familiar voice he couldn't quite place…

* * *

"Master, wake up," the Doctor pleaded, his hands on the other Time Lord's shoulders, tracing soothing patterns on his skin. The Master was unconscious, writhing fitfully as his eyes flicked frantically back and forth beneath closed lids. The Doctor shook him slightly, and the Master's eyes suddenly flew open with a gasp. He was breathing rapidly, panic clearly evident in his dark, glazed eyes.

"Doctor," he managed to choke out, sitting up quickly and looking around to see that he was in the medical bay. Panic and confusion was overtaken by anger, and he glared at the other Time Lord. "Why the hell am I here?" demanded the Master. "What did you do to me?" Without bothering to wait for the Doctor's explanation, he swung himself off the cot he'd been on and stormed off in the direction of the door. Suddenly, the Master found himself once more crumpling to the floor, landing heavily on his knees as the same sharp pain from before shot through his chest. The Doctor was at his side in an instant.

"One of your hearts stopped," he explained, watching the Master warily. "I managed to get it to restart, but you need to stay still so that you can recover properly." The Doctor paused. "Master, please— lay back down so I can run a proper scan. There's no evident cause for what happened, and I need to figure out what's happening to you.

"I'm fine," the Master snapped, pushing the Doctor away and getting shakily to his feet, wincing visibly. Pushing through the pain, he lurched out the door despite the Doctor's many protests. He found himself in one of the hundreds of long, golden corridors, desperately searching for his room in fear of passing out again, leaving him vulnerable to the darkness. Finally, with some luck – and maybe a little help from the TARDIS – the Master managed to find it, limping into the dimly-lit room and collapsing onto the bed. He curled up, arms wrapped protectively over his chest as he stared at the dark wall in front of him.

Part of the Master wanted to go back to the Doctor – to let the other Time Lord help him – but he already knew what was wrong. He'd contracted this very same disease once when he was a child, still living on Gallifrey when he attended the Academy. He'd caught a very rare and serious illness, just before he'd met Theta.

The disease had a very long, complex name, so to most people it was known as Time Fever, or simply, the Fever. It was most commonly associated with long-term exposure to the Untempered Schism, but no one except the Shaman ever spent great amounts of time in its presence. Therefore, since Time Lords rarely got sick, there was little need for any form of medical advancements or technology. This combined with the Time Lords' unique ability to regenerate meant that there were no local hospitals. The only one on Gallifrey was unbelievably expensive and very far away, meant for only the highest ranking members of the Council. Koschei was sick with the Fever for months, and ended up regenerating at the age of nine, which ultimately cured him of it.

But the Master was sure he'd get better on his own this time. He was much older and his immune system would surely fend off the Fever – or whatever it was that was happening to him. He tried to convince himself that there was nothing wrong, that it was all in his mind and if he simply ignored it, the symptoms would go away. But still he couldn't rid himself of the nagging in the back of his mind, warning him that something much more serious was taking place. The Master coughed violently, pain searing his lungs. He looked down at his hand to see dark droplets of blood covering his skin, and he quickly wiped it away on the sheets.

'_There's nothing wrong with me,' _he thought determinately. _'It's just a bout of space sickness; nothing to worry about.'_

The Doctor couldn't know there was anything wrong with him. His symptoms would vanish soon enough – no sense getting the other Time Lord all worked up over nothing. The Master closed his eyes, drifting off into a restless sleep.

* * *

**Poor Doctor; he just wants to help the Master get better. Explicit slash next chapter. Yum.**

**Please review, let me know how I'm doing :3**


	4. Chapter 4

**Special thanks to _Naku Tsushiko_ for being so supportive!**

**Hope you like it.**

* * *

"Master!" The word echoed through the TARDIS as the Doctor called after him. He'd been searching for what felt like hours – or maybe that was just time playing tricks on him – he couldn't tell. He called out again, still receiving no reply; not even a psychic wavelength to tell him where the Master was. He could sense the other Time Lord, but the signal was weak – there was no way for him to tell where it was coming from. The Doctor closed his eyes, reaching out with him mind and trying to concentrate. But he could sense nothing save a very faint, weak heartbeat beat. With a glimmer of hope, he ran in the direction the sound was coming from, and the Master's scent gradually became stronger. It smelled of death and blood… He needed to hurry.

Finally, the Doctor found the door to the Master's room. Slowly, he turned the knob, opening the door to an overwhelming scent of sickness. Whatever was wrong, it wasn't good. He entered the dark room, seeing the Master curled up in his bed, sleeping fitfully. The Doctor knelt down beside the bed so that he was level with the other Time Lord. Cautiously, he rested the back of his hand against the Master's forehead. Oh, this was very not good. The Master was burning up, his internal body temperature even higher than that of a human's. He gently brushed the hair away from the Master's face, his mind racing. There was only one thing he knew of that made a Time Lord's temperature go this high. "No…" he whispered, and the Master's eyes shot open.

The Doctor found himself being pushed away, falling backwards onto the carpeted floor. He slowly got to his feet, seeing the Master crouched on the bed, coiled up like a snake ready to strike.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, dark eyes narrowing menacingly. "Why can't you just leave me the fuck _alone_?"

"Master," the Doctor said slowly, trying to calm the other Time Lord. He took a step forward, one arm outstretched cautiously. When the Master made no move, he took another step. "Please," he said. "Master, you're very ill. Let me help you."

"I already told you," he spat. "You can't help me. There's nothing wrong with me!" The Doctor took another step forward, and the Master pounced.

He landed atop the other Time Lord, knocking him to the floor and pinning him, bared teeth mere inches from the Doctor's face. He tried to push the Master away, but the dangerous combination of insanity and rage allowed the other to hold him fast. The Master leaned forward, tilting his head to the side. A sudden, sharp pain shot through the Doctor's body as he felt teeth sink into the side on his neck. He opened his mouth in a hoarse, strangled scream, trying to kick the Master off him. But his struggles were useless, as the Master had his legs on either side of the Doctor's hips, trapping him beneath his weight. After several minutes of fruitless struggling, the Master finally released his flesh, and he could feel the blood welling from the wound in his neck.

Then he felt something else – a hot tongue lapping gently at his skin, cleaning off the sticky liquid and helping to soothe the pain. Soft lips traveled up his neck, and the Doctor began to relax, letting the soft motions calm him. He could sense the Master relax too, and the struggling part of his mind thought about throwing the other Time Lord off him while his guard was down. The Master growled, lifting his head and glaring at the man below him.

"Don't even _think_ about it," he hissed, causing the Doctor to flinch slightly. The grip on his wrists tightened painfully, and the Doctor nodded – he figured submitting would be the safest way to go at this point.

"Yes, Master," he whispered, seeing the other Time Lord visibly relax, though the hold on him remained secure.

"You know I love it when you use my name," the Master half- murmured half- growled possessively, sending a chill down his spine. He lowered his head once more, this time scraping his teeth over the Doctor's already closing wound, reopening blood vessels as the Master sucked on his neck, lapping up the tangy red liquid. He moved up the Doctor's neck, licking and nipping his way to his sharp jawline. He heard the other man's breath hitch, and he growled softly, lifting his head above the Doctor's. Their eyes met, and the other Time Lord's were glazed over, pupils blown wide. His chest was rising and falling faster than normal, but he otherwise remained completely motionless.

"Master…" he whispered after a moment of heated silence, and the man so named surged forward, pressing his lips roughly against the Doctor's. The other man let out a moan as his eyes slid shut, and the Master sucked his lower lip into his mouth, biting down and drawing more blood. The electric taste of artron energy played on their tongues as he pushed into the Doctor's mouth, a small moan slipping out uninvited. The Doctor eagerly raised his hips up against the Master, who began to grind back down firmly. Their lips broke apart, remaining only a centimeter away from each other.

"Don't you _dare_ move," growled the Master, releasing the Doctor's wrists and moving down to unbutton his shirt, practically ripping it in half in his rush to undress him. The other Time Lord did as he was told, keeping his arms held loosely above his head and somehow resisting the urge to run his hands down the Master's lean body. The other man sat up, tracing his fingers along the Doctor's chest and torso before reaching down to work on his trousers. Within seconds, his pants were thrown well across the room, hardened cock sticking deliciously out from his body. The Master licked his lips, eyes filling with hunger – but what the Doctor failed to notice was the spark of insanity that was still present in those dark eyes, swimming just below the surface.

Before he knew it, the Doctor found himself being lifted to his feet, the Master's hand fisted painfully in his tawny hair. He was thrown face-first onto the bed, immediately feeling the indent in the mattress as the Master climbed in behind him. The Doctor tried to turn his head as he pushed himself to his knees, but the hand was in his hair again, forcing his head back down. He could feel the heat from the Master coming off in waves, burning into his back.

The Doctor suddenly felt very vulnerable, his face flushing as he wondered just what the hell he was doing here, naked in the Master's bed. But before he could even think to take action, the Doctor felt a warm body press hotly against his back, skin-on-skin and flush together. All thought dissolved into the sheer heat building within the Doctor's body, and his logical mind was overtaken with animalistic lust. It never occurred to him that the Master had already squirmed his way into his mind, shutting off the Doctor's thought processes and masking his presence within a cloud of euphoria. He bent over the other Time Lord, covering long hands and fingers with his own, molding together both their bodies and minds.

The Doctor moaned and gasped beneath him, pushing back against the Master's hard, slick cock, begging him without even realizing it. The other Time Lord was long gone; his mind completely shadowed with lust and need for the Master – which of course he'd taken the liberty of enhancing slightly. There was little chance he would even remember anything once they were finished.

'_All the better,'_ he thought, lacing his fingers with the Doctor's and pressing up against his entrance. The Doctor squirmed beneath him, whimpering; begging. _'It's not like he would ever be this willing with a clear mind.'_ The Master clenched his teeth, trying to shake away the pitiful thoughts in his head.

As the Master slowly pushed into the man below him, he tried to tell himself that he was only doing this to get deeper into the Doctor's mind and nothing else. There was nothing between them anymore. All that had ended long ago, when the Doctor had decided to leave him behind as he ran off with his granddaughter – with the family he had created with someone else. Sure, they had always met up along the way, different people, different bodies. Their brief times together were wonderful, but always ended far too soon. The next day they would always go back to being enemies, like nothing had ever happened. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that neither dared to break in fear of the consequences. They had tried to make it work before, but one of them always ended up getting hurt. Best to have the brief time of content and save the pain rather than knowing they'd failed once again.

Gritting his teeth, the Master pulled out of the Doctor, thrusting back in roughly, a yelp of pain mixed with pleasure escaping his lips. The Master gave his hand one last squeeze before straightening his torso, hands on either side of the Doctor's bony hips as he pounded into him. The noises coming from the other Time Lord were simply delicious – pain, pleasure, agony, lust – all present in the Doctor's voice with each sound he made. The Master growled, digging his fingers into the Doctor's flesh hard enough to bruise as he continued to thrust hard and fast and deep. He angled upward, smirking when the other Time Lord cried out as his cock brushed against his prostate. Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, the Master focused his attentions on that spot, mercilessly hitting it again and again. The Doctor's body was practically _vibrating_ beneath his hands, moaning and bucking and pushing back against the Master.

Clenching his jaw again, he began thrusting even deeper, feeling the Doctor twitch and shudder all around him as he came, spurting cum onto the bed and even his own chest with the force of it. The feeling and sounds the Doctor made as he came pushed he Master over the edge as well. He threw his head back, calling out as he came, still thrusting shallowly inside the Doctor.

Spent, he pulled out, bunching up the messed sheet and tossing it onto the floor before collapsing bonelessly (no pun intended) beside the nearly-unconscious Doctor. He waited until the other Time Lord was asleep before reaching out to him, pressing his fingers delicately to the Doctor's temple. The Master closed his eyes, gliding through his mind and easily opening closed doors and pushing steel walls aside. It was as if he were never even there as he walked through the Doctor's memories, tracing back until he found the one he was looking for. Peering through the door, he briefly watched the events play out in the medical bay, and closed it so that the Doctor wouldn't remember anything that went on there. He passed a few more doors, finding the memory when the Doctor had found him in the kitchen, unconscious and with only one heart working. He placed his hand on the edge of the door, ready to close it, when a frantic voice caught his attention. Curious, he looked inside, seeing his broken body crumpled on the tile floor in an awkward position. _'Pathetic.'_

"_No, no, no… Please no, don't let this happen…"_

There was that voice again, and the Master listened for another moment before he realized he was hearing the Doctor's thoughts in that moment. Interesting.

"_Master – Master, please. Don't do this. Don't leave me again, please."_ He watched from the Doctor's point of view as he picked up his broken body, laying his head in his lap and holding him close, sobbing. _"Koschei – can you hear me? Please answer me, Koschei. Don't leave me."_

Koschei. He hadn't heard that name in nearly nine-hundred years. He listened to the Doctor repeat that old name over and over again, calling out in his mind and begging for him to hold on. The Doctor sounded so sad, so heartbroken; filled with fear and sorrow. It reminded him of his Theta – always so mature for his age but still such a child inside.

Suddenly, he realized it was now Theta's voice he could hear, swirling around him with such beauty and pain. Maybe – maybe some part of the Doctor really did care about him. He knew Theta was still in there somewhere, and that the boy – that wonderful boy – would love him no matter what.

With a sigh, the Master closed the door, catching a last glimpse of the Doctor carrying him to the medical bay, still sobbing inside. Theta's sweet voice was cut off as the knob clicked into place, and he was surrounded with silence once more.

The Master slipped out of the Doctor's mind, pressing up close to him and falling asleep within seconds.


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor blinked open his eyes, finding himself within a dimly-lit room. Brow furrowed in confusion, he remained still while his eyes flicked around the room, trying to figure out where he was and how he'd gotten there. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head. Wait – he was in the Master's room. Why was he here, and why the hell was he asleep in the Master's bed? It was at this moment he looked down to see his clothes scattered across the floor, and the Doctor horridly realized that he was completely naked. In a state of panic, he jumped off the bed and gathered up his clothes, sloppily throwing them on while he raked his brain for any indication of how he'd ended up here. Come to think of it, the Doctor couldn't remember anything from the previous day after he'd briefly seen the Master in the kitchen.

Now he was starting to really panic. Something definitely went on yesterday that the Master didn't want him knowing about, and judging from his current situation, it was fairly obvious as to what that was. Straightening his tie with a small sense of dignity, the Doctor went out the door and made his way to the kitchen, not giving himself time to think until he'd eaten something. Unusually hungry, he made a slice of toast and washed it down with hot tea. He burned his throat, but he didn't care. After finishing eating, the Doctor headed to his room to have a shower. The Master was nowhere to be found, and the Doctor didn't know whether to be worried or relieved.

Peeling the clothes off his body, the Doctor caught a reflection of himself in the mirror, and the first thing he noticed was the redness and bruising along his throat and collarbone. He looked down at the deep purple bruises lining his hips, then nearly jumped when he looked back up to see a nasty bite mark imprinted into the side of his neck. His skin was scabbed over, and still-red scratches ran down to his shoulder. With a small burst of regeneration energy, the scratches and bruises faded to a dull brown, with teeth marks still barely visible. Swallowing, the Doctor turned and stepped into the shower.

The hot, steaming spray ran down his body, and the Doctor felt tense muscles immediately relax. His whole being was sore, and he repeatedly pushed away the thought that kept popping into his mind – that the Master had raped him and then deleted the memory. He shook his head, scattering droplet of water and trying to dislodge the idea from his head. Though he tried to deny it, a small voice was screaming in the back of his mind. It certainly was possible – he had seen the evidence loud and clear. He rubbed his fingers delicately over the side of his neck, where he could still feel the harsh teeth marks that had been imbedded into his flesh. The Doctor could vaguely remember the Master above him, straddling him, pinning his arms above his head as he sank his teeth into the Doctor's neck. He wanted to banish the memory, but another caught his attention. He could remember the feel of gentle lips and tongue against the skin of his throat, travelling up to his jawline and stopping at his mouth. A rush of love and lust washed over him, and the Doctor opened his eyes, puzzled. If the Master _had_ taken him against his will, then why did he remember such affection coming from the other Time Lord? Something told the Doctor that everything that had happened between them was more or less consensual, but he didn't know why or what had caused him to lose that time.

He cared about the Master – he really did. Even though the other man's actions over the past nine-hundred years had made it difficult to trust him, he knew that his Koschei was buried in there somewhere, deep within the hard shell of cruelty that was the Master. As the Doctor thought over the previous hours, he could recall waking up at one point with the other Time Lord curled up in his arms. He'd been sleeping more peacefully than the Doctor had seen him in a long time; his chest gently rising and falling in time with his unusually weak heartbeats. Wait – something was weird about the Master's hearts. Hadn't there been something wrong before? He knew he'd been acting strangely for days, but the Doctor felt there was more he should know. Maybe it was just the drums interfering with his organs? No – that didn't sound right. There was something more; something he was forgetting. He tried to search deeper into his mind, but could find nothing other than the impending feeling that something was wrong.

_**XXX**_

Hair still slightly damp from his shower, the Doctor opened the door to the library, wanting some peace and quiet so he could think. He was surprised to see the Master sitting in his favorite armchair, laying sideways with his head resting on one of the arms and his legs dangling over the other side. If he heard the Doctor enter, he made no move to show it, seemingly too absorbed with the book in his hands to look up. Not wanting to leave simply at the sight of the other Time Lord, he continued into the room, settling into another armchair across the room, though it wasn't as comfortable as the other one. He put his head back, closing his eyes and just enjoying the quiet of the room. After a while though, the space began to feel uncomfortable to the Doctor, and he wondered if he should say something to break the silence. Luckily for him though, the Master broke the tension first.

"Morning, Doctor," he said casually, eyes expertly trained on his book. He made no indication of what had happened last night, and the Doctor worried that maybe he had gotten it wrong. But no, that couldn't be right. He wouldn't just have lost his memory for no reason.

"Uhm, good morning," he replied, mentally slapping himself at how confused and childish his voice sounded. He cleared his throat awkwardly. The Master looked up, brows raised innocently as his dark eyes focused on the Doctor.

"Everything alright?" he asked, managing to sound concerned while letting only a little mockery slip through in his tone. "How's your head?" When the Doctor looked confused, he explained: "You hit your head pretty hard yesterday; doing Rassilon knows what under that dusty old console. The TARDIS even made me take you to the medical bay – you were out cold." His lips twitched with a barely-suppressed smirk. "I have to say though; I'm quite disappointed I wasn't there to knock you out first. You're better at hurting yourself than I am, _Doctor_." The other Time Lord shuddered at the sound of his voice. The Master chuckled quietly, going back to his book.

"I…hit my head?"

"Yep," the Master confirmed, not looking up. "Lots of blood – lucky I was there to fix you up real nice."

"But…" he faltered. "I wasn't even working on the TARDIS yesterday." The Master tapped the side of his head.

"Amnesia, Doctor. Gets the best of us; not that you make a good example." The Doctor shook his head. That couldn't be right.

"But – why was I in your bed?" He paused and cleared his throat again. "Naked." The Master shrugged.

"You came into my room at, oh, around 3:47 am? You were complaining about something and wouldn't leave. After an hour and a half of that I finally let you lay down with me." The Master rolled his eyes. "I was almost asleep when you started complaining again – something about my room being too hot. Next thing I know, you're taking off all your clothes." He shook his head pitifully. "And that's pretty much how I ended up sleeping in the library." The Doctor said nothing, staring up at the wooden ceiling in silence. Was it possible that the Master was telling the truth? Maybe he really had hit his head; that would account for his memory loss. But – what about the bruises? The claw marks, the imprints of teeth in the side of his neck? Those things certainly did stand out as odd, but maybe he would believe the Master if it hadn't been for that one memory of when he woke up. He knew it wasn't a dream; that moment had been real. Curled up with the Master, their limbs tangled together and the other's face snuggled in the crook of his neck.

The Doctor closed his eyes, exploring the memory deeper. He found that there were glimpses of what had happened in the back of his mind, but the events leading up to it were completely blank – almost as if someone had gone in and closed off the earlier memories, but either didn't bother or completely forgot to erase the other events. Not to mention that nothing of what the Master had said was present in his subconscious. He pushed this discovery aside, saving it for later reference.

Back to the memory – the Master had been pressed up so tightly to him, almost as if in fear of losing the Doctor while he slept. In his mind's eye, he saw his own arms wrapped securely around the other Time Lord, curling protectively along the soft skin of his back, while his spine protruded ever so slightly. A blanket was thrown loosely over them, covering their naked bodies.

Wait – right there! The Master hadn't had clothes on either. They were both sleeping naked together, which only helped to prove the Doctor's earlier suspicion. But – maybe the whole thing hadn't been as forceful as he thought. There were warm feelings associated with the memory, too. When he looked back, he could feel the affection and happiness swirling contentedly around the room. The feelings spread to his physical body, and the Doctor realized that he felt safe with the Master. He looked up, gazing at the other Time Lord and he couldn't help but give a little dorky smile. He quickly wiped the expression off before the Master saw, but the feelings were still there.

The only thing he couldn't understand was the Master's attempt to erase those thoughts from his head. As he looked inside once more, the Doctor could now detect traces of the other Time Lord there, but not enough of it for him to be able to follow the trail and recover his lost memories. The Doctor sighed. He'd just have to work out the rest for himself.

_**XXX**_

The Master watched the Doctor closely from behind the cover of his book. He could see the man's repeated but failed attempts to remember yesterday's events, and wondered how long it would take until he gave up. Unfortunately for him though, in knowing the Doctor he also knew the other Time Lord wouldn't quit so easily, setting him slightly on edge. If he somehow brought up the memories, the Doctor would surely be angry. The Master knew that no one in their right mind cared about him, so why should this man be any different? If the Doctor found out how he'd been taken advantage of, there was no telling what he would do.

As he continued to watch the Doctor's attempts to recover his mind, he was completely caught off guard when the other Time Lord suddenly turned to _smile_ at him. He looked away before the Doctor could see him watching, expertly blanking his face as he trained his eyes on the words in front of him. In his peripheral vision, he could see the Doctor struggle to wipe the smile away. What was that about? Had the Doctor found a way back into his memories? And if so, then _why the hell was he smiling?_

The Doctor finally managed to blank his face, closing his eyes and continuing to search his mind. The Master was just trying to think of a way to distract him when the Doctor's eyes opened, and he heard him let out a sigh. But it wasn't an angry or frustrated sound – more like the Doctor was giving up or accepting something. Well was that good or bad? Suddenly, the dark voice within the Master pushed its way to the front of his mind.

'_He knows,'_ it whispered menacingly. _'He knows what you did to him. He's just trying to fool you – he'll wait until your back is turned and then lock you up like the madman you are, never to be found again.'_ A surge of panic shot through the Master, and he struggled to suppress the fear.

'_No,'_ he told the voice. _'The Doctor wouldn't do that – he's too afraid of being alone. He doesn't know anything; it'll be fine.'_

'_Oh no,'_ it insisted. _'He's only afraid of being the last of his kind. As long as you're alive he has no reason not to keep you. He'll put you on display like a prize-winning pet behind iron bars.'_

'_Stop it,' _he said. _'The Doctor wouldn't do that!'_

'_You don't know that,'_ it sneered. _'He's changed. He's not your Theta anymore.'_

'_Shut up!'_ he screamed, and the darkness mercifully receded back into his subconscious, chuckling darkly as it went.

"Master?" He was broken out of his mental state at the sound of his name. He looked up to see the Doctor regarding him worriedly. "Are you alright?" The Master frowned.

"Of course I am," he snapped, voice lined with annoyance. "How many times do you have to ask?" The Doctor only shrugged, ignoring the menace in the other's voice. The lack of a response only irked the Master, and he snapped the book shut, causing the Doctor's eyes to raise in question, but still he said nothing. With a frustrated sigh, he threw himself angrily up out of the armchair, letting the book fall onto the floor as he stood. It's not like he was reading the damn thing anyway. He walked past the Doctor, intending to storm out of the room, when he was pulled to a halt by a warm hand closing firmly around his wrist.

"Let go!" he hissed, pulling his arm from the Doctor's grasp. But it was too late – the Doctor had more than enough time to absorb and read the Master's surface emotions from the skin-to-skin contact. He had briefly looked into the other's head, sensing the argument still taking place in his mind, along with the fear and hysteria associated there.

'_He knows!'_ The fear welled up within the Master, and he did the only thing he could – he ran.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up, but it is the equivalent of two of my normal chapters so I guess that makes up for it. Anyway, thanks to all the people who have reviewed so far. I'd really like it if more people left me at least a little comment letting me know how I'm doing though, but it's okay. I just hope that everyone is enjoying reading this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Let me know what you think :)**

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He ran as far and long as he could. He legs were burning, his head pounding with the Drums, but still he didn't stop. Finally, after hours of twisting and dodging through the golden corridors of the TARDIS, he came upon a plain wooden door and pushed it open, stumbling inside and panting madly. Merely by coincidence, he had happened to find a room which the Doctor rarely visited, but greatly cherished. Inside the small space, scattered neatly about the room, was an assortment of various gadgets and possessions from the Master's lives. Momentarily frozen in place, his eyes widened, recognizing every one of the items with ease. There were pieces of clothing from each of his incarnations – probably whatever the Doctor had managed to get his hands on during their escapades throughout time and space. Locked up in glass cases and set on display were some of the weapons of destruction he'd used over the years; there was his old tissue compression eliminator beside his more recent laser screwdriver, among other things. The thing that really caught his eye though was the small wooden box tucked innocently between a pile of other long-forgotten memories. The structure resembled nothing from Earth, and the polished wood that it was made from carried a slight iridescent quality. It smelled like home. The Master was drawn to the little box as if entranced, picking it up and carefully unhooking the simple, smooth metal clasp which held it together. Inside was a set of silver rings, decorated with small intricate designs resembling Gallifreyan symbols. He picked one up, a wave of nostalgia washing over him, and turned it over between his fingers as he examined it: _**KOSCHEI**_. Slightly startled, he looked down at the other one, which was inscribed with _**THETA**_ in beautiful, bold letters, just like his. He rubbed the warm metal between the pads of his fingers, remembering.

_**XXX**_

"Koschei?" Theta's voice rang through the flat, and he could hear the door close behind his roommate. He looked up from the book he was reading, putting it aside and sitting up on his bed, legs hanging carelessly over the edge.

"In here," he called, and heard excited footsteps echo through their dorm. Theta opened the door, walking over while holding something behind his back. He stopped at the side of Koschei's bed, a huge grin plastered across his face. He looked up at the boy curiously. "What are you doing?" Theta sat down beside him, barely able to contain his excitement as he took Koschei's hand and slipped a little silver band onto his finger.

"There," he said, smiling proudly. He held up his own hand, and Koschei could see the nearly identical ring around Theta's finger. "Now we'll be bonded forever – nothing will ever separate us!" Koschei began to chuckle, and Theta's face fell slightly. "It's kinda stupid," he mumbled, looking down at the floor. "I can take them back if you—" He was cut off as Koschei lifted his head, pressing warm lips gently against his own.

"I love it," Koschei whispered, looking into Theta's beautiful hazel eyes. The boy smiled, and he smiled back, kissing those gorgeous lips once again. "Thank you."

_**XXX**_

The Doctor found him several hours later, curled up on the floor and shaking. He had finally tracked the Master back to the room that was dedicated to his enemy. Once inside, he knelt down beside the other Time Lord, cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder. The Master flinched, turning his head and looking up at the Doctor through unfocused, glazed eyes. He ignored the dried streaks of tears on the other's face, moving his thumb over the Master's shoulder in a soothing manner.

Allowing himself a moment of self-indulgence, the Master leaned into the comforting touch, enjoying the peace it gave him. He was vaguely aware of the Doctor's soft voice floating through the air, most likely directed at him, but he didn't make the effort of paying attention to what he was saying. It was probably nonsense anyway. The Drums were quiet under the other Time Lord's touch, and he closed his eyes, listening to the murmur of the Doctor's voice and forgetting about all his problems for just a moment. It was – nice. Of course, he would never admit it; not in a million years. He was too proud – anything besides anger was seen as a weakness to him. Maybe that was why he saw the Doctor as being so pathetic.

Suddenly, the movement of the other's fingers stopped, and he found himself being lightly shaken. The Drums came back, and the Master was filled with anger once more. He opened his eyes, pushing the Doctor away while he sat up, glaring through dark, blood-shot eyes.

"Master…"

"What?" he snapped. The Doctor looked at him with an odd expression, and before he could conjure a snide comment, he found himself being pulled forward by a hand on the back of his neck, soft lips brushing gently against his own. He didn't respond, but through the contact he could sense the Doctor's feelings – love, affection, sorrow, and fear. Fear of losing the Master and fear of his own mind; of being left alone as last of the Time Lords once more. As soon as he'd absorbed this, the Master quickly ducked his head, sipping out of the other man's grasp. The Doctor pulled away too, eyes widened in surprise as if he hadn't meant to do that, but there was also a flicker of hurt there, too. He looked up at the Master, who was regarding him through cold, dark eyes. He cleared his throat, deciding to act as if nothing had happened.

"Master," he repeated. "What are you doing here? What happened?"

"Leave me alone," he muttered, curling back up and burying his face in his arms.

"Let me help you," the Doctor offered. He hated to see the other Time Lord like this. "Master, please. I don't exactly know what's wrong with you but I promise I can help. You just have to let me in." The Master only curled up tighter, offering no response. One of his arms suddenly shot down over his chest, clutching his hearts tightly as his body began to shake violently, shoulders shuddering as he was enveloped in a coughing fit. It sounded awful, even with the cover of the Master's other arm over his mouth. His chest was heaving as he struggled to breathe between the relentless bouts of coughing. It sounded as if something were coming up, and the Doctor quickly turned him over onto his stomach, wincing when dark red flecks spattered onto the floor.

Finally, the Master's body relaxed, and he collapsed boneless to his side, eyes closed in pain as he concentrated on breathing. The Doctor brushed his hand over the other Time Lord's cheek, who flinched away within a millisecond of the contact – but that was all he needed to feel the fever burning under the Master's skin. As the other weakly tried to scuttle away, the Doctor crawled toward him, gathering him in his arms much like the time on the Valiant. He was breathing heavily, struggling against the hold as panic welled up inside him.

'_He can't know!' _the Master's mind screamed. _'There's nothing wrong! If he finds out, his hearts will break – he'll quarantine me, keep me on display while I suffer…'_ He finally pushed away from the Doctor, backing up against a desk piled with fragments of his life. _'Get away!'_

"Master," the Doctor soothed, slowly inching toward him. "Please, I want to help you." But the other Time Lord didn't seem to hear him. His eyes were wild and unfocused, desperately searching for an escape route. He was shaking, but whether it was from fear or something else, the Doctor had no idea. Cautiously, he reached out with one hand, gently placing it on the other's outstretched leg. The Master looked up suddenly at the touch, his fearful eyes focusing on the Doctor for a brief moment before something within him set off. Scared and confused features were instantaneously replaced with crazed anger and desperation. He leapt at the Doctor, teeth bared in a snarl as he pinned him to the floor. An odd sense of déjà vu crept over the other as his arms were held above his head, rendering him motionless from the position he was in. But he only looked back with a sense of calm, not struggling against the crushing hold.

"Why?" the Master murmured, his voice breaking. His eyes narrowed, and the Doctor could see the glint of tears threatening to fall. "Why do you always have to be the hero?" He swallowed. "Why do you make it so hard for me to hurt you?" The last sentence was barely audible, laced heavily with emotion the Doctor had never heard from him.

"Master—"

"Don't. I'll never be as good as you, Doctor. Not with these drums pounding in my head." He paused, glaring down at the Doctor. "Stop trying to fix me. It won't fucking work." He tried to stand, to run away again, but the Doctor held him fast, coming into a sitting position and gripping the Master's wrists in his hands. The other Time Lord growled. "Let go."

"No."

"Doctor!"

"I said no," he said, voice deathly calm. The Master tried to tug his wrists away, but the Doctor pulled him back roughly, causing him to glare menacingly with his teeth bared in anger. "Master," he said, slow and demanding, as if trying to drill his words into the other man's head. "There's something wrong with you – something besides the Drums."

"There's nothing—!"

"Yes," the Doctor interrupted, "There is." His grip on the Master's wrists was now painfully tight – he'd forgotten how strong the Doctor really was. "I don't know what you did to my memory, but I know you're hiding something from me. And it's not just what happened, but what I'm assuming I probably found out." He studied the Master's face, which was now masked with terror. The Doctor slid his hands down so that they were under the other's sleeves, wrapped around his bare wrists. He used the contact to look into the Master's thoughts as he continued to struggle against the Doctor's hold.

The Drumbeat was everywhere, echoing maddeningly around and around, chortling as it went. Under the relentless pounding, the Doctor could hear the faint murmur of the Master's own thoughts, quiet yet hysterical, almost matching the sound of Drums.

'…_he knows he knows he knows he knows… He'll take me away and lock me up and keep me forever and ever and I can't not again I don't want to be trapped please don't… No no no no Doctor no please don't look! Get out of my head!'_

The Doctor was thrown out of the Master's mind, causing both of them to clench their teeth in pain as their psychic connection was violently ripped apart. But the momentary distraction allowed the Master to pull out of the other's grasp, backing up against the furthest wall and panting heavily, eyes wild and chest heaving.

"Master," the Doctor started, but didn't know what to say – not after seeing what was going on inside the Master's head, even if it was only for a few seconds. He looked into the Master's eyes. "Let me help you." The other Time Lord shook his head.

"You can't!" he cried, trying to press himself even further into the wall. "There's nothing you can do, I don't want you to."

"Please, just let me try," the Doctor pressed, taking a tiny step forward, noticing the Master visibly flinch. "You've never just let me _try_. I'm sure there's something we can do."

"Not this time," he said sadly, looking down at the floor and refusing to meet the other's eyes. "Just leave me alone, Doctor. Let me suffer in peace." The Master was shaking, his hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly as his nails scraped against the wall. The Doctor took another step forward, and that's when he snapped. The Drums rose in magnitude and volume, actually causing the Master's body to shudder as they took over his mind. Crazed eyes focused on him, along with the appearance of teeth through the other's grin, just daring him to come closer. The Doctor stopped dead in his tracks.

The TARDIS lights flickered for a brief moment, and something shiny caught the Doctor's eye. The Master must have seen it too, for his grin got wider, giving him the appearance of something rabid. Before the Doctor could react, he snatched up the ancient Gallifreyan dagger, running his fingers carefully over the gleaming silver surface, tracing the complicated loops and swirls that decorated the sides with High Gallifreyan. He swung it carelessly through the air, as if testing it. His arm stopped, and the sharp tip was pointing toward the Doctor.

'_Do it,'_ the voice within him commanded. _'With the Doctor out of the way, you'll have control of the TARDIS – you can rule the universe as God!'_ The Master grinned, his skin prickling with anticipation. The Drums were cascading out of control, pushing away all rational thought. He could take over once more with the Doctor as his prisoner – and this time, there'd be no one to stop him.

"Master." The sound of his name pulled him back to the present, and his task at hand. The Doctor's features were calm, but he could see the fear flashing in his eyes. "The Drums are controlling you," said the Doctor, trying to reason. "Please, you have to fight it." The Master threw back his head and laughed.

"Why should I?" He was grinning, and his head tilted slightly to one side. "The Drums show me what I can accomplish. Now why would I want to fight it?" Without waiting for an answer, he stalked toward the Doctor, stopping in front of him and running the flat of the blade along the other's face. The Doctor was motionless, breath coming faster as the cold metal slid along his skin. Without warning, the blade was twisted to the side, the impossibly sharp edge easily slicing into his cheek before he flinched away, blood streaming down his face. The Master chuckled darkly, advancing on the other man until he was pressed against the opposite wall, trapped between the smooth surface and the other Time Lord's unusually warm, fever-ridden body. The dagger was against his throat, digging into the sensitive flesh and already beginning to split several layers of skin. The Doctor remained completely still, his breathing fast and shallow as his mind raced. He didn't want to die; not yet, not like this. He had to do something before it was too late.

Taking a leap of faith, the Doctor grabbed both sides of the Master's face in his hands, pressing his forefingers into the other Time Lord's temples and bringing his head forward against his own so that their foreheads met. The action caused the blade to cut further into the Doctor's throat, sharp pain shooting through him as blood began pouring from the wound. As quickly as he could, the Doctor pushed into the Master's mind, easily slipping past defenses that had been lowered by the Drums. He knew it would hurt the other Time Lord, but he really had no other option. In a matter of seconds, he had reached the control center of the Master's mind, who was howling in agony from the sudden assault on his subconscious.

'_Sleep,'_ he commanded, and the Master all but collapsed onto the hard floor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Special thanks to everyone who has been reviewing. Sorry it's taking me awhile to update, but I'm getting the chapters written up as fast as I can manage. Please review; it really keeps me going to know that people are reading the story :)**

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The Master blinked open his eyes to find himself on his back, staring up at a plain white ceiling. He tried to sit up, but found that he'd been strapped down with restricted movement on his body, which only allowed him to shift around slightly. Although, even if he could get up, he probably wouldn't have been able to make it very far. His head was throbbing painfully – it felt like he'd been beaten over the head with a sledgehammer perhaps a day or two ago. With a grunt of pain, the Master closed his eyes, the strain of trying to look around only worsening his headache. He receded into his mind, looking for any sign of what was causing the dull yet constant throb of pain in his skull. Sharp stabbing fear shot through him at what he found, accompanied by the feeling of utter dread. The Master walked through his mind, staring in horror at the scene before him.

All around him were scattered bits and pieces of his walls – the defenses he'd built up over the past nine-hundred years had been completely shattered. Pieces of rubble littered the ground, slabs of rock, plates of steel and titanium, iron bars and nameless other materials he'd used to protect himself – it was all gone. A millennium of work, disintegrated in the blink of an eye.

A mix of emotions ran though the Master, alternating erratically from one to another until they all seemed to blend together in a newfound feeling. Sorrow, rage, fear, paranoia, desperation, and dozens more. Against the outside world, he was a sitting duck; but to himself, the threat was far worse. Time Lords and other psychic beings not only used shields to protect themselves from outside intruders, but also as a coping mechanism to lock away unwanted memories and feelings. With the Master's walls gone, he was now threatened by nine-hundred years of existence weighing down on his mind – something that was very difficult for a Time Lord to endure. He cringed inwardly, expecting to be devoured by his own mind, but found that nothing was happening. Okay, that was a bit odd. At the Academy, students were always warned of the dangers of possessing such a long life as their species. That specific memory was so clear in his mind, so why wasn't anything happening? Had the Council lied to them?

Suddenly, realization struck him. It was the Doctor. The Doctor had been the cause of his walls to collapse, but he had also made sure that the Master was safe from himself. Turning around in his mind, he could now see a giant, gothic-style castle looming over him, so impossibly high that he couldn't even see the top. He walked up to the front door, which was really more like a drawbridge, and read the sign that had been posted there.

_Very-Not-Good Memories – Do Not Enter_

The Master scoffed at the Doctor's childlike choice of words – the past few hundred years had obviously caused him to take a turn for the worst. He shook his head, chuckling lightly, secretly relieved that the Doctor had cared enough to keep him safe.

When he opened his eyes, the Master was still lying in the same position, and he shifted uncomfortably to the left before relaxing again. His natural sense of time told him that it'd been about half an hour since he woke up, yet the throbbing in his head still hadn't ceased. But something was off – and not just the fact that his mind had been almost completely reconstructed (he made a mental note to sort that out later). It was the room. The Master's head was still pounding, and it took his sluggish mind a few moments to realize that the pain in his head wasn't coming from the Drums. In fact, despite the subtle sound of blood rushing in his ears, the room was unusually quiet – a quietness he hadn't heard since he was seven years old.

The Master stilled, remaining motionless as he listened to the glorious nothingness. And there really was nothing – just silence. He closed his eyes, concentrating. No, it wasn't just silence; there were tiny sounds all around him, calling to him. He could hear the engines of the ship whirring, transmitting power to his room, where he could hear it crackling through the walls. The lights buzzed softly as electrical energy pulsed through them and spread out into the space of the room. There was also a soft, dull sound that kept repeating at equal intervals, but it wasn't the Drums. He turned his head as much as he could in the restraints, and could see a stainless steel spout bending over into a sink of the same material. He watched as a small droplet of water leaked out of the nozzle, falling down and splattering into the sink with a small metallic thud. He laid back down, bewildered. He could hear _everything_. Even his own blood made a distinct sound as it pumped through his body.

The Master had often wondered about what would've happened if the Drums never came into his life, but time and time again found that he just couldn't give an answer. He honestly didn't know what he'd be without that noise in his head. And now, with the Drums gone, he had no idea what he should be feeling. They had been his only constant companion throughout nearly all his life, and now they were just gone. Being able to observe with all six of his senses was amazing, to say the least; but he felt oddly lonely without that constant, comforting beat. The Master shook his head as best he could under the bonds. Now was not the time for introspection. He needed to find a way out of this Rassilon-forsaken room. Mustering up his strength, which wasn't much at this point, he strained against the straps holding him down, but they wouldn't budge in the slightest. After only a couple of minutes of trying to maneuver his way out of his prison, the Master fell back, exhausted and frustrated. It really didn't help the situation that his head fucking _hurt_.

He didn't know how long he'd been laying there before he suddenly looked to the side, a quiet sound reaching his ears. Faint footsteps echoed through the walls of the outside corridor, where they stopped just behind the door. He watched as the knob turned, painstaking slowly, and the door was finally pushed open. In walked the Doctor, strolling along as if it were a normal day, looking not at all surprised to see the Master awake. He bent over his patient, looking at him as the other Time Lord stared back.

"How are you feeling?" he finally asked, tilting his head slightly to one side. The Master ignored the question.

"What happened?" the Master demanded. "Why the hell am I like this?" He jerked his head in the direction of the bonds holding him in place. The Doctor only sighed. He made his way around the cot, gradually undoing the straps one by one until the Master was able to push himself into a sitting position.

"Well," the other Time Lord began in his sing-song voice, the one he uses just when he's about to say something clever. "The drums in your head were threatening to take over your entire being; mind and body. I had to force myself into your mind so that I could trigger the sleep mechanism before you got out of control. Um… You'll find that a lot of your subconscious in ruins – sorry 'bout that…" He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably before continuing. "Anyway, because of that you're going to be very vulnerable for a while—" The Master could see him getting ready for a full-on lecture, but cut him short.

"Yes, I know," he interrupted, waving off the other Time Lord's pending explanation. "I actually paid attention in Psychology class, unlike you. All my defenses are gone, and thanks to a certain Time Lord, I face the threat of myself more than anything." The Doctor took a breath to say something, presumably in his defense, but the Master didn't give him a chance to speak. "I already looked inside my head; I saw what you did." He paused. "So – thanks."

"I know what you're—" the Doctor started his speech even though the Master had talked over him, and it took his brain a moment to rewind the dialogue. He stopped, looking at the other Time Lord as if he might be worse off than he previously thought. "What?"

The Master rolled his eyes. "I said thanks," he repeated stiffly, refusing to look at the other man. "You know, for locking my mind back up – not that you did the best job, but it'll hold." Rassilon, what was he saying? Was he going _soft_? He quickly decided to change the subject, clearing his throat loudly. "Why can't I hear them?" he asked quietly, surprising himself with the question.

"Hm?" The Doctor was still caught up in the Master's apology.

"The Drums," he specified irritably. "I can't hear them." The other Time Lord nodded, as if he was expecting this.

"Yeah," he said, carefully weighing up his words. He wasn't sure where to start…

"Doctor!" The voice snapped him out of thought, which must have gone on for longer than a few seconds.

"What? Oh, right! Sorry," he babbled out before taking a seat beside the Master. He swallowed before speaking. "Do you know how long you've been unconscious?" Might as well start with something simple. The Master only shrugged.

"Two days?" The Doctor shook his head.

"Master, you've been in this room for about three months now." The other man frowned in confusion. He went to say something but this time the Doctor cut him off as he continued talking. "Over the past eighty-seven days, I've been running scans and trying to get the drums out of your head. Like I said, they were threatening to take over your entire being, which would have ultimately killed you in the end. I used about a dozen different methods to try and find the source of the signal; where they were being transmitted from. But, as it turned out, they really _were_ in your head all along – embedded in your brain, to be exact." Without giving further explanation, he held up a black marble-shaped stone, handing it to the Master. He took it, and immediately felt a strange, but not unfamiliar, energy wash over him. Upon closer inspection, he could see swirling purple flecks of light dancing beneath the glasslike surface.

"What is it?" he asked, bewildered.

"It's a mass of condensed matter from the Time Vortex," he said matter-of-factly. "I tracked the signal into your brain and found that it was being emitted from tiny, microscopic particles originating from the Vortex. It took quite a while to find a safe way to remove them, but eventually I figured it out." The Master looked at him questioningly, so the Doctor explained further. "Well, I found that radiation from the heart of the TARDIS attracted the particles, her energy being from the rift. I transmitted some of the radiation through your head, which allowed me to pull the matter harmlessly through your brain where it condensed at the surface. I was able to remove the solid piece through simple surgery." He shrugged, acting annoyingly modest for saving the Master's life. "Your head's probably killing you," he said after a moment. "I healed you all up from the surgery but it'll be a few days before the pain disappears completely." The Master unconsciously reached up to run a hand over his still-throbbing cranium, wincing slightly. He still had a headache, of course, but it had subsided a little from when he first woke up.

"How did pieces of the Vortex get inside my head?" he asked. "It's not like it's from time travel, right?" The Doctor shook his head.

"That puzzled me, too," he said. "But then I thought back to when the drums first started; at your Initiation. Something there went wrong. The Time Vortex managed to get inside your head, as if it had physically reached out to you. From what I can conclude, you stood in front of the Untempered Schism for too long – I think you may have inhaled fragments that made their way through the gap, where they lodged themselves in your brain. The signal has gotten stronger over the centuries, which means that the particles have managed to multiply, albeit slowly." The Doctor finished his explanation, looking to the other Time Lord for a response. He waited, but still the Master said nothing. He remained still, a look of concentration plastered upon his face, like he couldn't quite grasp what the Doctor was telling him.

Inside the Master's head was a whirlwind of confusion. How could all this even be possible? The noise that had plagued his mind for nearly a thousand years was finally gone, but the only reason it'd been there in the first place was because some stupid Time Lord wasn't paying attention. Well, there was his whole existence in a nutshell – a careless mistake made by the High Council of the Time Lords, the good-for-nothing bastards. The Master grit his teeth, trying to suppress the rage boiling inside him.

He was snapped out of his internal state by the feeling of the Doctor's hand resting hesitantly on his back. At the other's touch, some of the tension left his body, and he slumped down with a defeated sigh. The Master dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his face tiredly. He could feel the Doctor's hand move over to his opposite shoulder, the length of his arm now against the Master's back as his thumb made soothing back and forth movements over his bicep. Without thinking, he leaned back into the comforting touch, angling his head so that it was pressed up against the Doctor's chest. The other Time Lord shifted slightly, cradling the Master in his arms and resting his chin atop the Master's head, holding him close. They stayed like that for a moment, breathing steadily with an air of companionable silence about them. Neither wanted to move away, nor did they want to face the inevitable awkwardness when they did so. So, for the time being, the two stayed pressed close together, enjoying the company and warmth that emitted from another Time Lord body; something that neither of them had felt for far too long.


	8. Chapter 8

**Finally finished this chapter! I'm soooo sorry for the wait! Special thanks to all you lovely people who have been patient enough to stay with me ^^**

**Read on, and please let me know what you think. I value all my comments!**

**Oh, and to those of you who haven't noticed, or just thought it was a grammar mistake, I do alternate the capitalization on _"drums" _depending on who's point of view it's being presented from. For the Master, he thinks of the drums as an actual proper noun, but the Doctor only sees it as a form of madness. If this really means nothing to you, and you have no idea what I'm talking about then that's cool too XD**

* * *

The Master's eyes opened when he felt the Doctor shift against him. Blinking groggily, he realized that he must have dozed off for a bit. He was still pressed against the Doctor, who appeared to be leaning against the wall that the cot was pushed up to. He remained still, not sure if the Doctor had also fallen asleep and not wanting to disturb their position. The Doctor's arm was still wrapped around him, but his head was leaning back against the wall, no longer buried within his hair. His own head was steadily rising and falling as the other Time Lord breathed. He could both hear and feel the twin hearts within the Doctor's chest, beating away and creating a relaxing orchestra in the Master's head. For a moment, it began to sound like the beating of the Drums, but with far less menace. He closed his eyes again, surprisingly comfortable with the way he was laying, and let that sound lull him back into a sleeplike state as he curled his legs beneath him. But the movement must've disturbed the Doctor, for he stirred slightly and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as his thumb began to rub against the Master's arm again. On impulse, the Master pressed into the touch without meaning to, snuggling his head further into the Doctor's chest. This definitely caused the other Time Lord to wake up, for the motion of his hand suddenly stopped as his body twitched slightly.

The Doctor tried to sit up, but was surprised to find a weight was holding him down – the weight of another Time Lord, to be exact. He was startled upon waking to find the scent of the Master all around him, filling his nostrils and reminding him of home, and even more so to look down and see his archenemy snuggled up against him.

"Master?" he murmured, testing to see if the other Time Lord was awake. When he received no response, the Doctor bent down cautiously, burying his face in the soft head of hair and inhaling deeply, relishing as the sweet scent washed through him. How long had it been since he felt so comfortable in someone else's presence? Not since – well – not since Gallifrey, he supposed, when they were still Theta and Koschei. A flood of memories started to swell the Doctor's mind, but he quickly pushed them away and locked them up, knowing full-well that remembering would only cause more pain. He let out a deep sigh, closing off his mind and just enjoying the warmth of a body pressed against his own. His hold on the Master tightened, but gradually, so as not to "wake" him, until he was holding the other Time Lord close to him, living in the moment for one brief span of time before he had to let go again.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence, the Doctor knew he had to leave. Reluctantly, he untangled himself from the other Time Lord, gently laying him down and trying to be as quiet as possible. The Master shifted slightly, squirming around a bit before settling into a more comfortable position. He ignored the feeling of the Doctor's eyes on him, no longer feigning but not wanting to face the other man just yet. The Doctor stood up fully, pretending not to notice the Master's obvious evasion. He stretched his arms above his head, relaxing his stiff muscles, then attempted to smooth down his wrinkled clothing with little success. He stood quietly for a moment, taking in the form of the man before him, then turned to leave.

When he was sure the Doctor's back was turned, the Master opened his eyes, dark gaze following the other Time Lord as he made his way across the sterile white room and finally out the door, letting it fall shut behind him. The Master blinked slowly, like a lazy feline just waking from its nap, but otherwise remained unmoving. His face was blank as he stared at the closed metal door which bore the last trace of the Doctor. Still as a Weeping Angel, he continued to stare, unblinking; not really seeing the door as he turned things over in his mind. Finally, he sat up, dropping his head into his hands with a sigh. What the hell was going on? Why did he suddenly miss the feeling of the Doctor's arms wrapped around him, holding him close? Why did he long for the Doctor's scent and warmth to envelope him completely, to curl up in his embrace and forget all the wrong in the universe? The Master shook his head. '_Stop it_.' He could not start thinking this way, having mushy thoughts about the man who was imprisoning him. He was the Master. He didn't get all soft and nostalgic like the Doctor. Why the hell was all this happening to him so suddenly? '_Stop it_.'

A shower – that's what he needed. Hot steamy water to wash the grime and sweat off his body; to clear his head so that he could actually think straight. Fixed on this task, the Master stood with a grunt, legs wobbling slightly from months of disuse, holding the edge of the cot for support. His vision went out for a split second as the blood rushed from his head – which was still throbbing, though not as painfully. After a bit of time he was able to regain his balance, slowly making his way to the door, a knee or ankle giving out weakly after every few steps. When he finally made it to the other side of the room, he opened the door, cautiously peering up and down the long corridor. After deciding that he was safe – from what, he wasn't sure – the Master stepped out of the medical bay, his balance having more or less returned to normal by now.

'_Shower?'_ he thought hesitantly, and a door appeared on the wall opposite him. Surprised at the TARDIS's compliance, he padded over to the door in bare feet, turning the knob slowly, wary of a trap, but was relieved to find that she'd led him exactly where he wanted to go. He stepped into the large bathroom, complete with white porcelain tiling, a glass shower, and a pile of fluffy towels resting on a marble counter. The Master gave a small smile, sending his thanks to the TARDIS. Realizing what he was doing, the smile quickly fell off his face. _'What's gotten into me?'_ With a sigh, he reached in and turned on the shower, and began to strip off his three-month-old clothes.

He really needed to find something else to wear. Suits just weren't that comfortable to sit around in, not to mention the fact that the Doctor was always wearing one. Somehow, coordinating with the Doctor's clothing choice wasn't high on the list of things he wanted to do. Besides, he needed a change in style –something less professional.

Glancing in the mirror, the Master smoothed his hands over his body. He'd never really gotten a chance to appreciate this new form, what with his takeover of the universe and all, and he found he quite liked it. The Doctor seemed to like it, too, he thought smugly, before quickly wiping the thought from his mind. With a self-loathing shake of his head, the Master turned and stepped into the steaming hot water, enjoying the numbing heat that nearly scalded his skin.

Finally able to relax under a curtain of steam, the Master let his mind wander. He didn't really pay attention to the thoughts flicking through his head, but one notion in particular snapped him out of his daze. He was thinking about the Doctor – his tall, slender, suit-clad stick of a body, with his hair mussed adorably and a stupid grin on his face; the one that made his hearts stop. Not having the energy or will to fight it, he allowed his mind to be consumed with thoughts of the Doctor. All that time locked up in the body of an old man, he never really looked at the other Time Lord like he did when they were kids – in fact, that was part of the reason he'd done it. How could he possibly rule the universe with thoughts of ravishing the Doctor flashing through his head? Besides, that young body had too much energy – put up too much of a fight and posed too much of a risk to his operation. At least that's what he'd thought at the time, before Martha bloody Jones decided to ruin all his fun. Anger flashed through him, and he turned his thoughts back to the Doctor before the emotion could take hold. No good dwelling on the past, after all.

Soaping up a washcloth, the Master ran it over his body, smoothing the taut and unused muscles as he went, scrubbing his skin clean. It wasn't until he reached his waist that he realized he had an erection. He smoothed his hand over his half-hard cock experimentally, feeling it twitch beneath the touch. _'Where'd you come from?'_ he thought dryly as he ran his thumb over the tip and shuddered. _Weird._

He closed his eyes, and suddenly, it was the Doctor's hand encircled around his cock. It was the Doctor's long, thin fingers working their way up and down his shaft; _his_ breath on the Master's face and neck. Another shudder ran through his body, and suddenly he longed to reach out and touch the Doctor; to press their bodies together and run his hands up and down his naked form. He wanted to so bad, but right now, he couldn't. He knew that if he reached out, the ghostly presence would vanish. He knew that if he opened his eyes, he would be facing nothing but a thick wall of steam. So he stayed where he was – didn't look, didn't touch – and just _felt_.

The hand on his cock gradually began to speed up, fingers loosening and tightening rhythmically as he fucked it. The Master's hips rocked forward slightly, and a little moan slipped out from between his lips. He began to thrust harder, the fingers around his shaft squeezing tight, concealing the head of his cock with each backward pull, reappearing red and swollen as it slipped through his fist. His breathing picked up, and every thrust was now met with little grunts and mewls of pleasure. He could feel the Doctor's eyes on him, and even though he knew it was just a fantasy, his face began to flush with how wonton he must look. The ghost of the Doctor's smirk appeared in his mind, full of heat and sex. The Master could feel his balls draw up, a familiar coil of warmth in the pit of his stomach. Just a few more and – _yes!_ He came with a sharp cry, throwing his head back as his hand continued to pump shallowly, ribbons of cum releasing and dripping down his cock, flowing with the water to wash down the drain.

"Doctor…" he murmured, over and over. "Doctor, Doctor…"

When it was done, he opened his eyes slowly, and he was inevitably met with nothing but a glass wall draped with fog. He knew it was all in his head, but still his hearts wrenched with emptiness. The Master sighed, resting his arm against the cool glass and burying his head in the crook of his elbow. _Rassilon._ What was happening to him?

_**XXX**_

The Master stepped out of the shower and into the steamy space of the bathroom. He quickly toweled himself off, then wiped one hand over the foggy mirror, leaning in and examining his face closely. His hair was a dark, sopping mess. Long, slightly wavy strands fell down over his forehead, framing his face and just covering his ears. He ran his fingers through it, slicking it back over his head in a way that reminded him of the body he'd inhabited during the Doctor's eighth regeneration. He paused, then mussed his hair up with a scowl. '_No thank you.'_

The Master leaned in to peer closer at his face, running a hand over the thin layer of stubble along his chin and jaw. It wasn't very long, considering that Time Lords' hair grew at a relatively slow rate, and frankly, it looked pretty good. Maybe he'd even grow a beard again, although the Doctor always thought they were a bit rubbish. He chuckled quietly. '_Maybe not.'_

He really did need to do something about his hair though. Grabbing a pair of scissors, he began snipping off bits of the damp, ruffled mess atop his head. After several minutes, the Master dropped the scissors back down onto the counter, running his fingers through his hair triumphantly. It wasn't as short as it had been during his time as Prime Minister, but not quite the shaggy mess it had been previously. Dark strands hung over his forehead and the tips of his ears, creating a mildly malicious look. He smiled. Perfect.

_**XXX**_

The Doctor's head jerked up when the Master entered the console room. He hadn't expected him to look so – happy. Well, not _happy_, persay… More like – content – or something to that nature. The other Time Lord was wearing dark jeans with a navy blue t-shirt under a black leather jacket. _'Looks like he found the wardrobe then,'_ the Doctor thought dryly. Actually, that jacket did look more than a bit familiar. With a start, he realized it was the same one he himself wore during his ninth incarnation. He shook his head in mock bewilderment. _'Of course it is.'_

His mind began to wander, and a comfortable warmth spread through the Doctor's body when he remembered being curled up with the Master during the night. He wondered how much of the previous day the Master even remembered, if anything at all. He wouldn't doubt a bit of memory loss with the work he'd done on the other man's head.

The Doctor was shaken from his thoughts when the Master plopped down on the pilot's chair, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his head back, eyes closed nonchalantly. The Doctor carefully made his way around the console, stopping in front of the seemingly unsuspecting Time Lord, for he made no move when the Doctor approached. He reached out, knowing that the Master could sense him, and lightly brushed the back of his hand over his forehead, pushing dark strands of hair out of the way and ignoring the way the Master briefly tensed up. He could feel the still-too-high temperature burning under his skin, along with the irregularity of the Master's heartbeats – one too fast and the other too slow.

While the Master had been asleep, the Doctor had dismissed these symptoms of a side effect of the drums being there for too long. He had focused instead on finding the actual source of the noise, and had ended up working for months before finally getting rid of them. He'd figured that once the drums were gone, the Master's body would return to normal, more or less. Apparently, this was not the case. Beneath the other man's carefully masked features, he could still see the pain which the Master was trying so desperately to hide. Perhaps it just hadn't been long enough since the procedure… He'd just have to wait and see.

"How are you feeling?" he finally asked, breaking the silence. He brought his hand away, and the Master shrugged casually.

"Clean," he replied, carefully avoiding the real question. The Doctor opened his mouth to clarify, but the Master cut him off. "And hungry." The Doctor paused.

"You want to eat?" The Master rolled his eyes.

"Yes," he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. "And you're cooking."

Wait – _a hint of laughter?_ Okay, something was definitely wrong. The Doctor raised one eyebrow skeptically.

"Um. Okay. What do you want?"

"Waffles," the other man replied, leaning his head back again and looking up at the ceiling to avoid eye contact. "And bacon," he added, waving the Doctor off in the direction of the kitchen. "You wouldn't believe how much I've missed breakfast."

"Right," said the Doctor, already turning away. "I'll let you know when it's done then." When he was sure the Master couldn't see, a small smile broke out across his face. He hadn't seen the other Time Lord in such a good mood in forever. Maybe getting rid of the drums really had done some good after all; apart from the obvious, of course. He set about making breakfast.

_**XXX**_

When the Doctor stuck his head through the door to call the Master to eat, he saw that the other man was hunkered over, arms resting on his knees and holding his head in his hands. His fingers were tensed up, digging into his scalp, and he was shaking.

"Master?" he called softly, already having made his way across the room to stand behind the pilot's chair, tentatively placing one hand on his shoulder. As soon as he made contact, the Master's posture immediately returned to normal as he sat up, brushing the Doctor's hand away. He stood and turned, beginning to walk past him.

"Food ready?" he asked casually, but the Doctor stopped him with a hand on his chest. "What's wrong?" The Master's face was impassive as he feigned ignorance to other man's knowing look.

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

The Master looked at him quizzically, but the Doctor could still see the redness in his eyes; the way he continued to twitch slightly; how his hearts still beat irregularly in his chest, if not a bit faster.

"What are you on about?"

The Doctor shook his head. He could see that pushing the subject now would get him nowhere.

"Nothing," he said cheerily, a bright smile appearing on his face. "Let's go eat."


End file.
